Even the Gods Must Pay Their Due
by Azremodehar
Summary: An earthquake near his old home draws Malik back, only to uncover something that would have best been left buried...
1. Guardians of the Grave

Authour's Note: Well, here it is. The Azy's YGO/Stargate crossover. I'm taking it, I hope, in a slightly different direction than most such things. xx; Dunno how long until the next part'll be ready… It's all written, but I re-read it recently, and some of the things in it seem… trite. Also, I'm not completely confident in my grasp of the SG-1 characters, so I'm a bit trepidatious about it, especially since I don't have a beta-reader that's familiar with Stargate (hinthint)… But, here's the first part anyway. I hope all the other YGO/Stargate fans will appreciate this. ;

Thanks: Go to my marvellous beta-reader, Tyger, without who's support I would be lost in a cold dark place of no writing. m( )m

Chapter 01 - Guardians of the Grave 

            He hadn't ever really wanted to go back there. It was dark, in a disturbingly familiar way. It was as if the shadows clung to his skin, and the flashlight in his hand had didn't seem to be having much effect. He shivered, and wished that he had long sleeves.

            _Keep it together, Malik. There's nothing left down here that can hurt you. It's all on the surface now. _Nothing left down in the dark hole he had once called home, save a few old relics, of little value. But just a week ago, an earthquake had hit the area. It had been a mild one, and, to all appearances, the old crypt hadn't been damaged, but it had shown Malik what _could_ happen, and it occurred to him that he wanted to go back.

            "Just once," he had told his sister, Isis. "I need to go back there just once, to look at it. The Americans would say I want 'closure.'" He had snorted, and given a bit of a sneer. She had agreed with him, and so here he was, in the one place he had thought that he would never again set foot in. Rishid had wanted to go with him, but Malik insisted that he wait outside.

            "I have to do this alone," he had said.

            "I understand, lord Malik," Rishid had replied.

            In the dark, Malik stumbled over a fallen piece of masonry, and swore. Apparently, there was enough damage to hamper him. He waved the flashlight over it, willing the shine to cut through the darkness. Naturally, it had no effect, but the light still showed enough to reveal that the passage he had been following was cut off by a cave-in. Malik swore again, and after a glare that would have struck terror in almost any who saw it, he turned to leave.

            Maybe it was coincidence, or maybe not, but as he turned, his light passed over a hole in the wall that hadn't been there the last time he had been in the tunnel. It had obviously, upon examination, been opened up by the same earthquake that had caved in the passage. Curiously - but with some trepidation, who knew what could be in a sealed room in his old home? - he waved the flashlight about inside the room. What little he could see of it contained nothing, but almost as if in a trance, Malik found himself stepping over the fallen masonry, into the chamber.

            A sudden tremor in the ground shook him, knocking him almost to his knees. There was a sound ahead, in the room, like breaking glass, followed by a faint slithering. The next thing Malik knew, there was a sound like a squealing scream, and a dark shape impacted solidly on his neck. Not for the first time was Malik glad for his jewelry, but he didn't stop to think about it, because whatever it was was scrabbling about his neck. He dropped his flashlight, and grabbed for it, it slithered out of his grasp, like a snake, but the brief feel of it that he had was like no snake he had ever touched.

            "Ah!" he exclaimed, as it bit sharply into his shoulder. And then it was slithering into his mouth, plunging _through_ the back of his throat. He let out a strangled scream. It squirmed though his mouth, and he felt it settle in his head, and around his spine. And then, to his abject horror, he felt something he thought he would never feel again, his greatest fear, the worst thing that could possibly happen to him. There was another presence in his mind, and it was attempting to force him back, back into the room of his soul.

            **_"No!"_** he exclaimed, shouting the word with both his voice and his mind. At the same time, he pushed back at the presence, with all his trained will.

            _"Submit!"_ a supremely arrogant voice said in his head. It sounded like a distorted version of his own. _"Submit to your god, mortal!"_ It pushed back at him.

            _"God?!"_ Malik said, in a tone just as arrogant. _"I have more right to be called god than you ever will, you crawling worm!"_ He had little doubt that the voice he was currently speaking with belonged to the creature that had climbed into his body. In fact, giving it a moment's thought, he _knew_ that it was that creature, and he knew that, given time to examine it, all the knowledge of the creature was his for the taking. And his was just as open to the creature. Quickly, he shut his mind off, barricading the sanctity of his soul as best he knew how. Without a Sennen Item though, there was little he could do. Again, the creature tried to thrust him out of control. But Malik had more than a little experience in taking minds that didn't belong to him, and had only once ever been thrust out of control himself.

            With a breath and a thought, Malik inverted his consciousness, bringing himself into his soul corridor, and pulling the creature along with him. As he had expected there were two rooms there. His door was a pale colour, carved on its face to match the tattoos carved in his back. It was almost completely closed. Across from him, the creature's door was wide open, from what he could see of it, it was made of gold, and some silvery metal that he knew was not silver. _Naquada_, the word came to his mind. Standing in front of the door was a version of himself, garbed in the style of a god, or a pharaoh, with glowing golden eyes, and a look of utter affronted confusion. Malik smirked.

            "What is the meaning of this?!" the creature demanded.

            "Haven't you ever seen a soul room before?" Before the creature could answer, Malik pushed, thrusting the creature back into its soul room, and slamming the door behind it. The look of shock on its face before it vanished behind gold and naquada was extremely gratifying. He could feel as much as hear the roar of rage as the creature slammed into its door. It would do no good, however. It was weak, after millennia of imprisonment, and Malik had a very, very strong mind. Double-checking to make sure his own door was still closed, Malik then returned to the conscious world. He opened his eyes, to find himself on his knees, with a concerned, flashlight-wielding Rishid standing over him.

            "I heard you cry out, and had to make sure of your safety," he said. "I disobeyed you, lord Malik. I am sorry." Rishid closed his eyes, and bowed. As he stood up, Malik waved a hand, dismissing Rishid's apology.

            "It's fine," he said. "I'm glad you came." Rishid looked up, slightly startled. Malik's smiled briefly at him, but his face quickly fell back into serious lines. "We have a problem. A big problem."

            "What do you mean?" Rishid asked.

            "There is a creature in my head," Malik said, tapping the back of his skull. "It was down here, in a canopic jar, over there." Malik waved the flashlight over the fragments. "It was imprisoned in there, by its own kind. But that's not important right now," he added, cutting off the expected question from Rishid. "What is important is that it tried to take over my mind." Rishid's eyes widened at the implications. "Don't worry. I have it locked inside its own soul room. It's safe for now." He paused, and Rishid said nothing. The silence stretched for a minute, and then two. Malik turned. "Let's get out of here. I have a phone call to make." Malik's voice was as hard as steel.

---

            It took half an hour for the to make it back to their hotel room in town, with Rishid riding with Malik on his motorcycle. Malik had originally had no intention of staying there, but Isis had booked it for them, 'just in case.' He was glad now that she had, because it gave him someplace to call from. He checked in, and tossed his backpack onto the bed.

            "Rishid, call Isis, and tell her I need her here, now," he said. Rishid started for the room phone, but Malik held up his hand in a commanding gesture. "No. Use the phone in the lobby. I have another call to make."

            "To who?" Rishid asked.

            "Who do you think?" Malik replied. "Now go. Hurry." He pointed out the door, and then turned his back, and went to the phone. He heard the sound of the door closing behind him. It took a minute to remember the complicated process of making an international call, but he was soon hearing the ringing of the phone on the other end. He counted the rings. _Four. Five. Six._ Was he going to answer the phone? _Damn it. _He was about to hang up the phone, and try the next number, when he heard the click of the receiver being picked up.

            "Moshi-moshi," said the sleepy voice on the other side.

            "Yuugi," Malik said.

            "Malik?" The surprise was evident in Yuugi's voice. He sounded much more alert. "Why are you calling? And at this hour?" A little guiltily, it occurred to Malik that it was very early in the morning in Japan, but he shook it off. What had happened to him was far more important than Yuugi's sleep.

            "We have a problem," Malik replied. Something happened. It wasn't like something he heard, or even felt, but he knew before he was replied that it was no longer exactly Yuugi on the other end of the phone.

            "What sort of problem?" The voice was deeper, more confident. There was a regal quality to it, something that spoke of a familiarity with command. The pharaoh might yet not have regained his memories, but it was unmistakably the voice of a king. _Or a god,_ something inside of him whispered. He shuddered. It took him a moment to be sure that it was his own thought, but the creature was still firmly sealed within its own soul room. "Malik?" the other Yuugi said.

            "I'm here," Malik replied. He paused for a moment, and then related the story. "There is a lot more, but talking about it on the phone is a bad idea."

            "I agree," the pharaoh said. "Can you come here?"

            "I'd prefer not to," Malik said. "But I can if I have to." There was a pause. "If airfare is an issue, I can more than cover it."

            "I'd rather not," the other Yuugi replied. Malik couldn't help the smirk.

            "Did I sting your pride, pharaoh?" he laughed.

            "Enough, Malik." There was just a touch of stern anger in the other Yuugi's voice. It made Malik feel good that he could still rile the pharaoh. "We'll be there."

            "'We' meaning you and your little omote, or 'we' meaning you and your entire entourage?" Malik asked. Again, he could practically feel the other bristle at his words.

            "They aren't an entourage Malik, they're my friends. But no, I don't want to bring them. If that creature in your head is as dangerous as you think-"

            "I know," Malik interjected. "It's not a matter of 'think.'"

            "Fine. You know. I wouldn't feel right exposing them to that kind of danger, but I don't know if I can leave them behind," the other Yuugi said. Malik sighed mentally.

            "Look, pharaoh," he said. "Jounouchi would probably be safe - he's surprisingly strong for someone who has never held a Sennen Item. But the others? The thing in my head is hideous. Do you want to take even the slightest chance that something like it could infest, say, the pretty Mazaki Anzu?" His voice had taken on a nasty tone at then end.

            "That's low Malik. But you're right; it would be wrong to bring them, no matter what my heart wants." The other Yuugi sighed. "Do you have a number? I'll call you back when I've made arrangements." Malik gave him the number of the hotel, and the room he was staying in. "I won't be long." There was a click on the other end, as the other Yuugi hung up. A moment later, Malik hung up himself. With a sigh, he laid down on the bed, to await Rishid's return. He didn't have long to wait for Rishid; he had been lying down for perhaps two minutes, when the door opened, and Rishid stepped in.

            "Well?" Malik said, as soon as the door was closed.

            "She'll be coming tomorrow morning. And your call to Yuugi?" Rishid asked.

            "They're coming," Malik replied shortly. "Exactly how many of them, I still don't know." He had little faith in the other Yuugi's ability to argue down his friends. "He'll be calling back as soon as he's made his arrangements. You get some sleep; I'll wait up."

            "But lord Malik-"

            "I don't want to sleep," Malik said cutting him off. "Not right now."

            "I understand," Rishid replied. Malik heard him climbing into the other bed, and continued to stare at the ceiling. An hour passed, and then two. Occasionally, he felt the creature in his mind test his defenses, but he never had to put out a great effort to suppress it. Its rage was a palpable thing though, burning in a corner of Malik's mind; it genuinely believed that it was the rightful owner of Malik's body and mind. Stray thoughts, and bits of knowledge belonging to the creature drifted through his mind. Some were fascinating; he got glimpses of a sarcophagus that restored life, energy weapons, like something out of a sci-fi film, and, most compelling of all, a great ring that enabled travel throughout the stars. A word accompanied that image - _cha'appa'ai._

            But most of the images were hideous. Visions of atrocities the likes of which he had never imagined, accompanied by a cold, hard, alien arrogance. Many of them were so foul that his mind automatically shied away, but he forced himself to sift through them anyway, for any kind of advantage that he could glean. Finally, a name came to him, and it was so surprising, he sat straight up in bed. _Meretseger._ He knew that name. Meretseger, the cobra goddess, lover of silence, and guardian of tombs. Before he could think more upon the implications of that, the phone rang. A quick glance at the clock showed that it had been almost three hours since he had spoken with Yuugi and the pharaoh. He picked up the phone.

            "Yes?" he said into the receiver.

            "It's me," Yuugi's voice replied over the phone. "We'll be arriving in Cairo International..." he trailed off momentarily, and then continued, "Well, it'll be 1:45pm, the day after tomorrow, your time. Is that okay?"

            "It's fine," Malik replied. "Who's 'we?'"

            "Just me and the other me," Yuugi replied. "Jounouchi couldn't come, and we can't let the others come."

            "What about Bakura?" Malik asked. There was an uncomfortable silence.

            "I couldn't get a hold of Bakura," Yuugi replied. "He still has the Ring, so probably..." He trailed off, a slight bit of sadness creeping into his voice.

            "Yeah," Malik agreed. "I'll see you the day after tomorrow."

            "Bye," Yuugi said. Malik replied, and then Yuugi's phone clicked on the other end. Malik hung up his own phone. "You can go back to sleep, Rishid," he said. There was the sound of shifting cloth to his left, and Malik knew that his adopted brother had, as always, obeyed his command. _Thank you for being here for me, Rishid,_ he thought. _Thank you for always being here. I think that I'm going to need you as much as ever now._ He sighed quietly, and shut his eyes, eventually falling into an uneasy sleep.

            His dreams were plagued with visions from the creature. Ancient visions, he somehow knew. It felt to him as if they were taking place many, many thousands of years in the past. Before the Items. Before the oldest dynasty of pharaohs. Battles, horrors, and decadence. Armoured warriors, with great helmets shaped like serpents, marching around Egypt, and great ships resting atop the pyramids, and vision after vision of the _cha'appa'ai_, the centre of it glowing with watery blue light, or alternately, as an empty ring, awaiting travellers.

            There were others in the dream, men and women who he knew, somehow, were possessed as he was, by a serpentine parasite. Unlike him, however, in all of those cases, the parasite was in control, wielding godlike power over the Egyptian peasants. Life and death was in the hands of the gods, and all was as it should be. The men and women who played host to the gods were honoured, and rightly so. _No. This isn't right._

            With that thought, Malik snapped awake, and realized what had been happening. The parasite in his head had somehow wormed its thoughts past the barriers he had around it. It had been attempting to seduce him with its visions.

            _"That's not going to work, worm,"_ Malik sneered into his mind. _"Now you just stay in your soul room until I can get rid of you."_ The creature snarled in his mind.

            _"Submit, mortal! You cannot stand against a god!"_ it said.

            _"Oh, I **beg** to differ,"_ Malik replied. On the heels of those words, Malik slammed an image of one of the Battle City finals matches into the mind of the creature. It screamed with the force, and afterwards fell silent. Malik looked at the clock. 6:37am. He groaned. It was too early to be up, but too late to go back to sleep.

            "By all the gods," he swore, and then snorted at the irony of the statement. He reached over to the phone, and dialed room service.

            "Room service," a blandly cheerful voice said. "How can we help you?"

            "Breakfast," Malik replied. "Bring me something without any meat." He paused. "And coffee. I want real, Turkish coffee. The strong stuff, not the dreck you give to tourists. Make it all enough for two. And fast. Thank you." He set the receiver back on the set with a click. "Rishid, wake up," he called. It was petty, but Malik felt that if he had to be awake at this atrocious hour, then he wouldn't do it alone. Rishid yawned, and sat up.

            "What can I do for you, lord Malik?" Rishid asked.

            "Just be awake with me," Malik replied. He flipped on the light, and for the first time since leaving his old home the previous evening, got a look at himself in decent lighting. He was covered with dust, his hair thick and dull with it, and his skin ashen. "Ugh. Isis will kill me if I'm still a mess when she gets here." He turned to Rishid. "I'm expecting room service. It should be here before I get out of the shower." Rishid nodded.

            "I'll get it, lord Malik," he said.

            "Thanks." Malik dug into his backpack, and pulled out the emergency change of clothes he had stowed in it, just in case, and went into the bathroom. It was a relief to get out of his dusty clothes, and a pleasure to wash himself free of the dust, even if he had to shampoo his hair three times to get his hair satisfactorily clean. When he had finished cleaning himself, he wrapped a towel around his hair, and then quickly cleaned his jewelry, before dressing in his clean clothes.

            The outfit was just another variation on his "standard" gear - a deep purple tank top, this one made of silk, accompanied by slightly faded black cargo pants. His jewelry went on after that, and then he pulled the towel off his head, and tossed it on the counter with the one he had used to dry his body. When he opened the door into the main room, he was greeted by the divine aroma of strong Turkish coffee. Rishid was sitting at the table, nursing a half-empty cup. A second cup was waiting on the tray, along with a small glass pot. Also on the tray were an empty plate, and one still full, with still-steaming flatbread and a pile of fruit.

            "Ahh," Malik sighed happily, after his first sip of the rich, dark coffee. "There's nothing else in the world that is quite like Turkish coffee. Has Isis called?" he asked, as he dug into his breakfast.

            "Yes," Rishid replied. "She called just a minute ago. She'll be here around nine, she said." Malik nodded.

            "Good. Now all we have to do is wait."

---

            Isis was good to her word, arriving just before nine in the morning. They exchanged greetings and pleasantries over another pot of Turkish coffee, before Isis asked what was going on.

            "Rishid said only that it was urgent, and he couldn't speak of it over the phone," she said. Malik told her what had happened, and added the visions he had had in his dreams, and the things he thought he had learned from them.

            "The strangest thing, sister, is that the visions all looked so... old," Malik said finally. "They were definitely of Egypt, but the only structures I recognized, even from our oldest archives, were the pyramids. Isis?" She had a strange look on her face. "Sister, what's wrong?"

            "It's strange, what you say. It reminds me of something I overheard a couple of archaeologists talking about once." She paused, and Malik and Rishid waited for her to continue. "They were talking, rather mockingly, about a colleague of theirs, a man who apparently theorized that the pyramids were far older than anyone thought. That they were not, in fact built by our ancestors, but by an unknown factor. It seemed ridiculous, but then again, if you don't know any better, so does the truth about these." Isis flipped up a Magic & Wizards card as she finished her sentence. "I don't know if we should believe it, but in light of this-" she nodded toward Malik "-maybe we should give his theories some thought." Malik nodded consideringly.

            "Do you think he might know something? Maybe we should question him," he said. "Do you know his name?" Isis shook her head.

            "No, but I could find it out." She smiled slightly. "There can't be too many disgraced archaeologists with wild theories about the pyramids out there."

            "I'll help you," Rishid volunteered. "I can start searching through university archives." Isis smiled.

            "Your help would be greatly appreciated, Rishid," she said. "Can you start now? I feel that the quicker we do this, the better off Malik will be."

            "Of course. There's actually an Internet café in town; I can go there," Rishid said. Malik nodded, and Rishid took his leave. After he had left, she said,

            "I assume that you have already contacted Yuugi and the pharaoh?"

            "Yes. They'll be arriving at Cairo International tomorrow afternoon," Malik replied.

            "So quickly?" Isis raised an eyebrow. "I suppose it's not difficult to understand, all things considered though. Who else is coming with him?"

            "Surprisingly, no one," Malik said. "Yuugi and the pharaoh didn't want to risk their friends to something like this." He tapped his head.

            "I don't blame him," Isis replied. "If what you say is true, theirs minds would be overwhelmed." She paused for a moment, a thoughtful look on her face. "Although perhaps Jounouchi would be all right. After all, he has proven capable of casting off mental control in the past." Malik ignored her needling; although he wasn't exactly proud of the things he had done in the past, he wasn't ashamed of them either.

            "The same thought occurred to me, but according to Yuugi, Jounouchi couldn't come," Malik said, and then shrugged. "It's back to waiting again, then. We should join Rishid."

            The rest of the day was spent rooting through university directories, and Isis's archaeological contacts, trying to track down a man who they didn't even have a name for. Finally, Isis got in touch with someone who knew of him.

            "Crackpot theories about the pyramids?" the cultured British voice said. "You would be looking for Dr. Jackson then. Dr. Daniel Jackson. He's an American. Good luck finding him though. He vanished from academia several years ago. I heard he was dead, although other rumour has him working with the United States military, but you can't trust rumour. Goodbye now." The person hung up. Isis relayed the information to Malik and Rishid.

            "Hmm," Malik said, speculatively. "Well, at least we have a name now. Dr. Daniel Jackson, possibly dead, possibly connected to the U.S. military."

            "It's not very much to go on," Rishid said.

            "Oh, it's plenty," Malik replied with a grin. "I have a call to make. I'll be right back." He got up to leave.

            "Why don't you just use my cell phone?" Isis asked. Malik turned and gave her a look.

            "You really don't want to know," he replied, and left the room. Malik left the hotel, and went to the nearest public payphone, several blocks away. He took the phone off the hook, deposited several coins, and dialed the number. The phone rang twice, and then someone picked it up.

            "Hello?" the familiar voice on the other end said.

            "Hakim," Malik said. On the other end, he heard Hakim's breath catch.

            "How can I serve, lord Malik?" he asked.

            "I want you to track down a person, and find out how to contact him. I want all the information you can get on this man," Malik replied. "His name is Dr. Daniel Jackson. He may be connected with the U.S. military." _Or dead._

            "Why do you want to know about an American military man?" Hakim asked.

            "Are you questioning me?" Malik said, allowing an edge of threat to creep into his voice.

            "No, lord Malik. How can I contact you if - when - I find out what you want to know?" Hakim said.

            "I'll call you. You have two days." Malik hung up the phone, and headed back to the hotel. Although he no longer had the personal level of control over the Ghouls that he had once had, there were many who he still had a very tight hold upon, for other reasons entirely. Like Hakim. The man was a marvellous informant, with fingers in every pie in the world, it seemed. And Malik had more dirt on Hakim than Hakim had on any dozen people. And so Hakim remained "loyal," although Malik suspected that there was more than one reason the man still served him willingly.

            "Well?" Isis asked when he returned.

            "I may have some information in a couple of days. In the meantime, we wait for our guests to arrive. With any luck, the pharaoh will be able to solve my little problem, and that'll be the end of it." Malik flopped down on his bed. "With luck."


	2. These Things Just Happen

Author's note: ...Okay, so. The quick update promised has not, obviously, happened, haha. To tell the truth, I _did_ have that bit all finished, and the next one started... and then I realised it _sucked. _Just... flat-out. And so, here I am, several years (and MANY drafts) later, with, finally, the second part. And again, the third part is started – but this time, I'm not making any promises.

I want to thank eveyone who's read the first part over the years, and especially thank everyone who's been watching, and waiting so patiently. And very special thanks to my friends Tyger and Vikki, who supported and enabled me into continuing this. 3

I hope everyone likes it.

Chapter 02 – These Things Just Happen

The airport was enormous. All around him, there were people. People rushing, people waiting, people chatting, and shouting, and laughing, and off ahead of him, Yuugi could see a man being escorted somewhere by security.

It was _amazing._ He'd thought Battle City had been crowded. He'd thought Narita Airport had been enormous. They were, he thought at the moment, _nothing_ comparted to London Heathrow. He looked around at the signs, and glanced at the directions that a Japanese flight attendant familiar with the airport had been kind enough to give him, and concluded once more that he was lost.

"_I don't know where to go," _Yuugi found himself admitting to his other self. _"Her directions don't make any sense."_ He felt a little bad about saying it, but it was true. And even though his command of English was a bit better than most people would think (thanks to his Grandpa, and gaming), it wasn't much help at the moment; hit points and attack power didn't have much to do with international flying.

His other self didn't reply; there wasn't much he could say in that situation though, so Yuugi didn't mind. He ducked and dodged around a group of hurried travellers – tall, European, and speaking in a language he didn't understand at _all_ - and completely missed the somewhat shorter man behind them.

"Oof!" They impacted each other, coming in at slightly offset angles. Yuugi managed to not fall over, but the other man wasn't so lucky - and he was carrying a lot more.

"Ah! _Sumimasen! Daijou_-- I mean, _sorry--_" Yuugi started, exclaiming.

"_Iie, iie. Daijoubu desu yo--_" The man cut himself off abruptly, his jaw hanging open, and his eyes wide. Yuugi's heart sank as he realised just what the man was staring at. "--Is that the Millennium Puzzle?" the man blurted out, confirming Yuugi's suspicion. His hands moved to cradle the Puzzle, and he shifted, ready to run; after everything he'd just been through, and with Malik needing his help, there was no way, _no way_ he was giving anyone even so much as a _chance_, and the middle of a crowded airport was a bad place for a confrontation - even if the stranger staring at his Puzzle didn't realise that.

_"Aibou--"_ the other Yuugi started.

"No, wait!" the man said, holding his hands out, fingers spread wide. "I don't mean any harm, really, I just-- I never thought-- Wow, I mean, I never thought I'd get to see it at all, much less assembled, I mean, um, please--"

_"He's reading us aibou," _the other Yuugi said, clearly displeased. Yuugi sent a sense of acknowledgement, like a mental nod. _"I don't like it."_

_"Neither do I,"_ Yuugi replied, taking half a step back. "Sorry--" he started aloud, meaning for a moment to back away politely, if he could. But there was something in the stranger's eyes, something hard, and he _knew_ that he wouldn't be able to manage it; there was something in this man that would not accept ignorance or prevarication. He swallowed, and glanced at the clock; there was still an hour and a half left before he needed to get his connecting flight.

"What do you know asbout the Millennium Items?" Yuugi asked, determination written on his face. The man blinked.

_"Be careful, aibou,"_ his other self cautioned.

_"I will be,"_ he promised. The man blinked again.

"Um, ahh... Well, not a lot, really," he said, sounding a little sheepish. "I don't really know anything except a few myths, and legends... Considering how well-documented so much of ancient Egyptian history is, it's actually kind of-- kind of disturbing, but..."

Yuugi listened with some amazement as the stranger rambled on; he went into excruciating detail at some points - the symbolism of the Horus Eye on every Item - and at others, he cut himself off rather abruptly, frowning, mostly to himself, as if was thinking hard on something. It was clear that he was quite knowledgable, especially about Egypt. It was equally clear that he was hiding something.

_"I agree,"_ his other self said, when Yuugi brought it up.

"...There are further implications, of course, when you consider the significance of the removal of the Pharaoh's name," the man was saying. "Now, it's not the first time that one pharaoh has tried to remove a predecessor from history, from existence, really, by removing his name - take for instance, Hatshepsut, her successors tried to remove _her_ name - but it's seldom been as successful as this case. In fact," he continued. "I don't think it's ever actually been this successful." He frowned, deeply, and Yuugi could tell that something was definitely bothering him. "Even in cases where they've tried really, really hard, we've been able to recover the name--"

"Daniel Jackson, we must go, or we will miss our connection to flight 215," a deep voice interjected into his monolouge. Yuugi's gaze moved to the source of that voice, a tall muscular man, with dark skin, his eyes lined with khol, and his head covered by a baseball cap. He made Yuugi think of Rishid.

"_I wonder who'll be there to meet us?"_ Yuugi thought to his other self.

"_Aibou, pay attention. Did that man just say flight 215?_"

"Excuse me," Yuugi said. "I'm sorry, but did you say flight 215?" he asked. "To Cairo?" It _could_ be some other 'flight 215,' he reasoned. It didn't have to be the one to Cairo; you could have flights with the same numbers, if they were from different airines, right? Somehow though, even before either of the other two answered, he didn't think it would be.

"Yes, you are correct," the dark man replied.

"Are you on that flight too?" the first stranger, the one called Daniel Jackson, asked. Reluctantly, Yuugi nodded.

"I've been trying to find my way there," he admitted. "But we have plenty of time – the flight doesn't leave for more than an hour!" At least he _thought_ so...

"That is correct," the dark man replied, inclining his head with a slight, military precision. Something about it made Yuugi's neck prickle. "However, Daniel Jackson and I require certain additional security procedures in order to board the aircraft."

"Oh..." Yuugi started.

"Come on," Jackson said, with a friendly smile. "We can at least help you find your way to the gate."

"I—" Yuugi hesitated. They aready knew were he was going, and on what plane. And even though tere was something indefinably _off_ about the pair, he couldn't think of any reason not to let them show him the way. "Okay," he said after a moment, nodding.

_"Be careful,"_ his other self cautioned unnecessarily.

_"Don't worry,"_ Yuugi replied. _"I will be._" Jackson gave him a friendly smile, meanwhile, and introduced himself properly, along with his friend. 'Murray' didn't really suit the dark man, but he inclined his head again as he was introduced, so Yuugi supposed it was accurate.

_I guess not everyone has a name that suits them..._ he mused.

"I'm Yuugi," he said, after a moment of hesitation. "Pleased to meet you," he added with a short, habitual bow. Jackson gave a proper bow himself in response, and smiled.

"This way," he said, heading off again. Yuugi followed them both, chatting lightly with Jackson; Murray didn't say much, but Yuugi got the feeling that he usually didn't.

_"He reminds me of something,"_ his other self murmured.

_"Really?"_ Yuugi replied. _"What is it?"_ Yuugi got the sense of an uncomfortable shrug in reply.

_"I wish I could remember, aibou. It feels ... important."_ His other self fell silent again, settling back into the shadows of his mind, with a familiar, frustrated feeling; the spirit who shared his mind, and sometimes his body still remembered all but nothing of his own past, of the life he had live so many thousands of years ago. And that was the only place that that kind of unsettling shade of a memory could come from.

"Is everything all right?" Jackson's voice intruded suddenly on Yuugi's awareness, and he looked up.

"Eh? No, I'm fine," he said, smiling again. "Are we almost there?" Jackson nodded.

"The gate's just through there," he said, pointing. "Murray and I have to... take care of a few things before we'll be ready to board... Are you sure you're all right?" he asked again. There was real concern in his eyes, Yuugi could see, but it was mixed with an intense curiosity; the man still made him nervous. Anyone who knew too much about the Millennium Items did.

"I'm sure," Yuugi assured him. "I can make it from here. Thank you very much," he added. He gave a slight bow, and then hurried off before Jackson could ask any more questions. They were nice enough, but after everything in Battle City, it seemed like too much of a coincidence, to bump into someone who knew about the Items like this. His other self was still deep in thought, and didn't comment.

Yuugi fond himself a seat near the gate, and settled down to wait; there was still time before boarding. It was less than a minute later that he found himself going through his deck, running fingers over those familiar, friendly cards. His Grandpa's deck, to begin with, and now the one that he and his other self used. In spite of all the use they had seen, the edges were still crisp, and sharp, and shuffled together easily. He wondered if it was magic; it could very well be.

Much to his relief, he didn't see Jackson or his friend Murray again until the plane was boarding – and they were sitting in a different part of the plane. Yuugi settled into his seat, and tried to get comfortable; it was going to be another long flight.

It was hours later that a sudden strike of turbulence jolted him awake. The intercom pinged on, and the pilot's voice came out over it, an even, droning stream of English that went in one ear, and out the other. The plane as jostled again, and Yuugi saw a flight-attendant stumble. The fasten-seatbelt sign came on, and the voice kept coming over the intercom, even-toned assurances.

Yuugi yawned, and leaned against his hand, blinking sleepy eyes, and staring out the window at the pitch-black night around them. He couldn't tell if it was clouds, or just that dark.

_"We're supposed to be arriving early in the morning,"_ he commented to his other self, not really expecting a reply. _"Think it's early in the morning yet?" _The plane shook again, but no further commentary came over the intercom, and Yuugi started drifting off again.

The next time he opened his eyes, it was to the sight of the morning sun, rising over the desert, and the glittering, silvery snake of a river that he knew, without being told, was the Nile. The city was strung out along it, glittering jewels in the brightening dawn. It made him feel a sudden, strange pang of homesickness, running so deep that they were almost landed by the time it occurred to him that it probably wasn't _his_ homesickness at all.

_"I'm sorry, aibou,"_ the familiar voice came.

"_No, I'm sorry,"_ Yuugi replied. _"It's not fair that you can't remember anything of your own life."_

_"It's all right--"_

_"No it's not! Just because we have to live with it doesn't make it all right. But we'll get them back together, okay?"_

The warm smile in the back of his heart was all that Yuugi needed in reply.

The landing went smootly, and Yuugi was able to scramble off the plane without bumping into Jackson and Murray again. He hadn't taken the baggage claim process into accont though; they had been on the same plane, so of course they'd be at the same claim! He ducked his head low, and kept a nervous eye on them; it didn't seem that either of them had noticed him yet, and he was _sure_ it was only the fact that he was short that saved him.

_Why didn't I just bring a carry-on?!_

Well, he couldn't have fit a Duel Disk in a carry-on, and there was no way to have predicted meeting someone like that, he supposed. He still felt like he was holding his breathe the entire time, until his bag came around. As he snatched it, he heard someone – probably Jackson – start to say his name, but he pretended not to hear, hurrying off to find the exit; Malik should be waiting there.

Either he was _really_ lucky, and Jackson and Murray's luggage hadn't come around yet, or the man had just given up; either way, Yuugi managed to avoid them again.

And promptly managed to get lost in another unfamiliar airport. The signs were mostly in some language that he thought must be Arabic; it looked like squiggles to him, but he knew that was the language they spoke in Egypt. Away from the planes seemed like a good start; if he wandered long enough, he should find his way, and if he didn't, he was sure that Malik would come looking for him.

_"You don't see anything I'm missing, do you?"_ he asked his other self, after another ten minutes of wandering.

_"I'm afraid not,"_ his other replied. _"Maybe you should try going back; we could just sit at that cafe until Malik comes to find us."_

Yuugi nodded to himself and his other; it sounded like a good idea to him. He turned, and started heading back, thinking better of the idea with each step; he could get a sandwich, and a Coke or something, and wait _comfortably,_ instead of wandering around, hauling his luggage.

Thankfully, there was a free table, off in one of the corners, with space for him to leave his luggage. He darted to the counter, hoping his stuff wold be okay for a minute, while he got a sandwich and a Coke. He was just settling in, on his second bite of sandwich, when he heard a high voice ringing over the general din.

"Hey!" The shout drew his attention – and that of several other people. Most of them only glanced, and then looked away, with no interest in an intensely-glaring teenager (at least, Yuugi thought it was a teenager). He met Yuugi's eyes, and immediately, Yuugi recognised the gaze of a Duelist. The boy's next words confirmed it.

"I know you! You won the Duelist Kingdom tournament, _and_ Kaiba's Battle City!"

_Erk._ There was no way he could escape, was there?

_"I'm afraid not, aibou,"_ his other self replied, a little amused; there were, after all, consequences to being famous.

"I want a duel! You and me! Right now!" the boy continued. "I wasn't at Duelist Kingdom, and I never had a chance to face you in Battle City, but now! Now I have my chance! You _have_ to face me!" A nasty little smirk spread on the boy's face.

_"Do you want me to take care of this?"_ his other self asked Yuugi.

_"Yes please,"_ Yuugi replied, drawing back into the corridor of his mind. His other gave him a smile in the brief moment it took them to switch, and then Yuugi was watching from behind his own eyes.

"Since you've decided to interrupt my lunch for this," Yuugi's other said. "I'll be choosing our battleground." The boy's smirk didn't fade; clearly he had no idea what he was in for.

"Fine!" he replied. "I think I'll win, anyway!"

"Then you can wait until I finish my lunch." Yuugi's other was _smug,_ and Yuugi laughed in the corridor of his mind. They took their time finishing lunch; Yuugi's other was enjoying the way the boy was fuming as much as Yuugi was enjoying their Coke.

"I trust you have a Duel Disk," the other Yuugi said, giving the now red-faced boy a thin smirk. His own was in his suitcase, and his deck was in his pocket; it didn't take him long to get himself together, and by the time he had, his would-be opponent was mirroring him.

"Of course I do!" the boy snapped back. "Didn't I say I was at Battle City?!"

"That's funny," a familiar, sneering voice said, from over Yuugi's shoulder. "_I_ don't remember seeing you there. You draw enemies like carrion draws flies, Pharoah."

"Malik," the other Yuugi acknowledged. "I wouldn't call him an enemy; just... misguided."

"I'll show you who's misguided!" the boy snarled. He settled his Duel Disk into place with a decisive snap. "Pick your battleground!"

Which posed a problem; both Yuugis were well-aware of what could happen with Kaiba's Duel Disks. Especially when they were involved.

_"We can't duel here!"_ Yuugi called.

_"I agree, aibo. But where...?"_

"Try the parking lot," Malik suggested. "Don't worry," he continued. "I'm not reading your mind. Just your face. You have an awfully open expression for someone who lives and dies by the cards." The other Yuugi shot him a glare, and just got a smirk in response. But it was good advice; plenty of room, open air, less chance of a bystander getting hurt.

"Lead the way," the other Yuugi said. "Follow me, if you still want a battle," he suggested to the boy. Either he would, or he wouldn't. Malik gave Rishid a nod, and the man picked up Yuugi's bags. The other Yuugi gave him a slight nod as well, and they all fell in behind Malik, as he lead the way out to the parking lot.

Along the way, they drew a crowd – a procession, almost. Not that it was surprising; a pair of Battle City finalists, and an unknown young man; a pair of Duel Disks, and a palpable aura of anticipation. Anyone would look, most would look twice, and a good number would follow – out of curiosity, if nothing else. By the time they reached an empty area of the parking lot, the crowd was thick enough to fill out several ranks around them.

The sun overhead was bright, and hot, and so _achingly_ familiar. The other Yuugi tipped his head back to face it, and for just a fleeting moment, he almost felt-- almost _saw--_

The flap of white robes in a desert breeze.

And then it was gone. Across from him stood a boy, skinny, and red-faced, and scowling, and at most, a few years younger than Yuugi. And this was his opponent.

"Are you ready?" he asked.

"I was _born_ ready!" the boy scoffed.

"Then _draw."_

It didn't last long after that; the boy was good, and a clever strategist, with an unconventional combination of traps and spells that had had him worried for a minute. But it turned out that he relied entirely _too_ much on those back-handed tactics, with few monsters of his own to attack or defend with. It was a strategy as weak as having a monster-heavy deck; you needed a good balance to be effective.

Though the boy put up a good fight – both Yuugi and his other could easily see why he had been at Battle City – in the end, he was just no match for the other Yuugi. The dust in the air as the last life points ticked off his meter was half holographic, and half real. The holographic dust faded, leaving only the real thing to settle, and doing nothing to hide the bitter, defeated look on the boy's face.

Behind him, Yuugi and his other heard Malik snort.

"He never stood a chance," the Egyptian boy said, not bothering to moderate his voice. "I don't know why he bothered."

The other Yuugi remained silent as the crowd dispersed, and a man with a strong family resemblance – probably the father – lead the boy away, without more than shooting a glare at them.

"...Not fair,"he could the boy muttering, before he was lead out of earshot.

"Well, that's that," Malik said, as the remains of the crowd drifted away. "Come on, let's--"

"Yuugi! I thought that was you. I wanted to ask--"

They both turned, and the other Yuugi bit back a groan. The last person he or his aibou wanted to see; that strangely intense and disturbingly knowledgable man, Daniel Jackson. The man didn't seem to be aware that the being he was currently facing was _not_ in fact Mutou Yuugi – which was all to the good, as far as he was concerned. The less the man knew about the nature of the Items, the better. And he already knew far too much.

He approached, with his friend Murray close behind him, and whatever else might have happened was erased from time, as Malik's eyes narrowed, flashing gold, and a snarl of rage contorted his features, as he shouted.

"_Jaffa!_" The look was mirrored by Murray's expression, and though the words they exchanged sounded an awful lot like ancient Egyptian, the other Yuugi was somehow sure that they were _not._

There was no hiding the alarmed recognition in Jackson's eyes – nor the sudden, strangely protective nature of the way Malik interposed himself between Yuugi and the other two.

"Yuugi, you need to get away from him!" Jackson pleaded. "I don't know-- Look, he may have been your friend before, but what he is now-- You have to understand, he _isn't _ anymore!"

"Don't listen to him, Pharaoh," Malik snarled. "He's in league with _them_ – this is why I called you here. This-" he spoke another string of unfamiliar words "-serves those who call themselves gods, and would enslave the Earth!"

"Take back your filthy lies you--" Murray – _Jaffa? _– began, only to be interrupted by Jackson stepping between them, holding out his hands in a warding gesture.

"Wait! Teal'c, wait, you-- Are you Tok'ra?" he asked, giving Malik a curious, wary look. Malik just sneered.

"As if I would have anything to do with those weak-witted fools. All this time, and what have they done?" He snorted. Jackson swallowed, and opened his mouth to respond.

"_Just one minute,"_ the other Yuugi interjected, before he could speak. It got Jackson's attention, but Malik didn't take his gaze from... _Murray? Teal'c? Jaffa?_ Why did that last name seem somehow familiar? And the other didn't look away from him. Yuugi couldn't blame him; even without the Rod, Malik was dangerous.

"What," he continued, when he was sure he had as much of everyone's attention as he was going to get. "Is going on here?" Whatever it was, he would _not_ allow it to endanger Yuugi.

"_This,_" Malik started. "I what I called you here for. I never thought any of those crawling _worms_ still had their teeth in our world."

"Um, excuse me," Jackson interjected, holding up one hand. He swallowed nervously, and adjusted his glasses. "I think," he continued. "I think there's been a misunderstanding."


End file.
